


Dead Boyfriends and Major Mendings

by Seventeen_Juice_Boxes



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: And they both get it, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Eliot Waugh Deserved Better, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mentions of Sex, Multi, Quentin Coldwater Deserved Better, Rating May Change, Suicidal Ideation, Then it's all me, fuck the writers, soft, up to 5x10
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:20:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23239570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seventeen_Juice_Boxes/pseuds/Seventeen_Juice_Boxes
Summary: Quentin Coldwater is not dead. At least not anymore. But he thinks everyone else is.Eliot embarks on a (very brief) quest to get the love of his life back, and to be brave.They find each other, mend some minor things, mend some major things, and submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.OrQuentin's mom would like an explanation for why this 6'2" man is crying in her entry way, please.
Relationships: Margo Hanson & Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 33
Kudos: 131





	1. Margo Hanson Gives Good Advice

**Author's Note:**

> For @DI_Doughnut on twitter, hope this is what you wanted! :)
> 
> Please stay safe out there y'all, wash your hands.

Penny23 was a lot more understanding about the whole situation than Penny40 would have been, that was for sure. But Penny was, fundamentally, a good man, who really did love Julia, and who took responsibility for his actions. Namely: getting Julia pregnant. Very pregnant. So, luckily for everyone involved, the two sequestered to another room to talk it out, instead of having a screaming match in the middle of the living room, which is, honestly, what Eliot had expected, given Julia's hysterics in the dungeon. He just couldn't deal with babies right now. Not when he would never be able to remember Teddy with anyone again. Fuck, he couldn't do this right now.

As soon as they left the room, Eliot collapsed into a couch, his hand over his eyes, sighing deeply. If people tried to talk to him, he wasn't aware. All he knew was that when he uncovered his eyes a few hours later, he was alone, and it was dark. He sighed again, smiling to himself and pitching forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. He stayed like that for a minute, not willing to stand, until he heard a voice pipe up from a doorway. "El?" Margo, thank god. The only person he could stomach talking to right now. He looked up, smiling gently. She was still dressed from the day and was wearing her eyepatch, which made her look almost regal in the low light of the living room. He gestured for her to come sit with him, and she did, and he leaned his head against her shoulder, and she ran her hand through his hair, and they stayed like that for a while.

Margo spoke first. "El, honey, what are you doing here?" Her voice was soft, almost a whispered, and he didn't realize how much he missed her when he was in Fillory fucking around with the Dark King and Julia and all that other bullshit. But he was tired, and he was especially tired of lying to Margo, of hiding his grief, of pretending that everything was alright and he was just his usual snarky, lush self. The fact was that he wasn't second year promiscuous Eliot Waugh with a serious drug problem and an aversion to hard work. He was now a man with trauma, a man who had loved and lost and found his home and then lost that too. And he couldn't keep lying to the one person (who was still alive) he knew was in his corner.

He sighed deeply, almost a laugh. "I don't know anymore Bambi." He looked up at her, shockingly vulnerable, and Margo just smiled down at him, sad and soft.

"What happened? In Fillory, I mean." She asked, gentle, giving him time.

He told her. He told her about the Dark King, about his arrest, about being possessed again, fuck, right after the monster, about Julia, about everything she has missed.

Again, she smiled at him. "El-" she started, but he beat her to it.

"I can't do this anymore, Margo. Julia and Alice and Fillory and the fucking dark fucking king and all this bullshit, day in and day out, and all I want to is just taking a goddamn nap and wake up with-"

"Q." It hit him like a bullet in the back, He'd been trying so hard not to say his name, not to let anyone know that he was grieving too, that every waking moment he felt the hold in the center of his chest shaped like Quentin Coldwater. "El, I know you two were close, fuck, we were close. I miss him every day, so much. He was-" she hadn't been allowed to acknowledge who Q was to her before, she didn't know how to do it. "He was my best friend. You-You're my soulmate El, but he was my best friend, and I can't even bitch about the fact that he isn't here to him. But what, I mean, were you two together? And you didn't tell me?" She sounded hurt, but not angry.

He laughed, a weak, wet sound, and fuck, when did he start crying? "Do you remember when you were getting married to the stone bitch's toddler, and you stopped us from going through the clock with the time key?" She nodded, confused. "Back in Fillory, that day, we-something happened, I don't understand it, but we-we got memories of that timeline, the one that didn't happen. It was-we were together for, fuck, fifty years. Q had a wife but-but we were married, we were so, so in love, us and Arielle, and-we had a son Bambi. His-Teddy. We named him Teddy. After Q's dad, fuck." It felt like an elephant had gotten up off of his chest. How had he forgotten that Margo was his Bambi, his confidant, his ride or die? How could he have not told her about this earlier? Where had the real Eliot gone? He was back now, and he was crying.

Margo wrapped her arms around him, gently and kind, and he cried against her neck, feeling like a child, as Margo just shushed him and ran her fingers gently through his hair. When he was quieter, his shoulders still shaking, she sighed. "El, sweetie, you can't be here anymore. I'm not saying you're useless, but, you're useless baby. Leave it to us to stop Gandalf the Grey back in Fillory."

"Then what am I supposed to do, Bambi? I can't just be a grieving widow, people are like, actually dying." He felt like a petulant child, begging to play games with his older brother's friends, but he couldn't just be useless because Q was dead.

"Oh, El." She smiled, all teeth. "You're gonna go get your boy."

"He's dead, Margo, I can't just-"

"Says who?" She cut in. "Fuck death. Alice is sleeping upstairs, I just helped drag Hoberman's ass from the Underworld, wherever the fuck he is, and The Dark King is literally working to bring back his own dead hubby, and he's a shithead dictator. You're a good man, El. Death is bullshit, we're magicians. Go get your fucking husband."

He sat up, smiling at her, drying his face. "And the others?"

She laughed, putting on her mocking, high pitched, dumb bimbo voice. "Eliot? Oh, I don't know, he just vanished in the night? it's very strange, oh well, moving on!"

"I love you, you know that?" He smiled, bright and real, for the first time and weeks. 

"Oh honey, I know." She kissed him on the forehead and stood up from the couch. "I'll see you two when you get back." And with that, she made her way out of the living room and back upstairs, a spring in her step that hadn't been there when she sadly slunk in.

The next morning, Eliot was gone. It's not like he had much in the way of material possessions, but his absence was notable. Margo, true to her word, acted just as confused about his disappearance but assured the others it was likely just some grief-driven bender, and they, true to form, moved on without a second thought to Eliot's whereabouts

It occurred to him, sitting in a coffee shop, staring into his untouched coffee as it grew cold, that he probably should have formulated some kind of plan before he dove blindly into this endeavor. Even if he could get Q back, which was, if he was being honest with himself, pretty fucking unlikely, he didn't even know where to start. He went back through the memories of the mosaic, everything that Quentin had told him about himself that he could remember, every little detail that stuck out in his mind. Down and down the rabbit hole he went. Eliot wasn't exactly great at theoretical magic, but this was his quest. To get his Q back, to get his life back. To give Q his life back. He wasn't going to ask someone like Alice or Julia for help, no, he would figure this out. But he needed a plan, he needed a place to start, and he really, really needed a cigarette.

He stepped out of the coffee shop, coffee abandoned, and began to smoke, leaning against a nearby Goodwill box. Funny, how things like Goodwill and coffee shops still exist while Q is dead? What gave them the right to act like the world was normal? he scoffed, but he stayed there until he was done smoking, pitching the butt into a roadside trashcan with the aide of his telekinesis, his fifth limb, something that seemed so useless given the nature of the quest before him. He set off down the sidewalk, watching people pass by, smiling in the early morning like there was something to be happy about. God, when had he gotten so maudlin?

He turned the corner, no idea of where he was going, just wandering aimlessly, and he thought of his family. Teddy, and Arielle, the sickness, something so simple, almost certainly curable, had they had Earth medicine, that claimed her in the early summer when Teddy was only three. She had been such a good mom, and while he and Q tried their best, he was a good dad, he knew that, he missed her every day. She talked a lot about how excited she was to be a mom, and Quentin would smile and say that he knew she would be better at the job than any of their moms, and-Oh.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Quentin's mom.

Quentin had a mom, she was alive, she was married, she was here. She lived in town, Q had told him that. She was alive and, as far as Eliot knew, she 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥.

Fucking goddamn fucking shit fuck ass tits and balls. Eliot was going to have to be the one to tell her. Fuck, why had no one bothered, why had no one told her?

Fuck.

A locator spell was pretty basic shit, but so was the yellow pages, and sometimes, magic wasn't all it was cracked up to be with the conveniences of the modern world. He walked out of the convenience store with three packs of cigarettes, the latest copy of the yellow pages which was promptly dropped into the first trash can Eliot saw, and an address. A few minutes later he was on a bus, his monster-rattled body still not exactly up for walking long distances.

Far too soon, he was walking away from the bus stop and down the street, and the house looked almost familiar, considering Eliot has never visited Quentin's mom's house before. Maybe his body had, though, and he really didn't want to think about that right now. He was walking up to the door, his face stoic, his hands clasped in front of him. He stood there for a moment, rehearsing his words in his head over and over again "Yes, hello, are you Quentin Coldwater's mom. Yes, I'm Eliot Waugh, we were friends, I'm afraid I have some bad news blah blah blah." Fuck, why did he have to be the one to do this? It wasn't fucking fair.

He steeled himself with a deep sigh and rang the doorbell. There was muffled speech from inside, footsteps, and then the door swung open, and before he could process who it was standing in front of him, he tried to speak. "Yes, hello. Are you Q-Quentin Coldwater's m-" And then the world caught up with him and all the air rushed out of his chest.

"Eliot?" 

Standing in the doorway was, real as anything, Quentin, in a grey robe, his hair now grown almost to his shoulders, holding a box of Froot Loops, the other hand halfway into the box, frozen.

Then at exactly the same time. "But you're dead!"

Oh boy, clearly there was some explaining to be done. But before either of them could say anything, a voice called out from behind Q. "Well, who is it Quentin? You're letting a draft in!"


	2. Quentin's Mom and Molly are Confused

Eliot Waugh was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a highly emotional man. At least, not outwardly. So it came as a bit of surprise, to himself more than anything, when he found himself openly weeping for the second time in less than 24 hours. And yet, here he was, sobbing in the entryway of Quentin's mom's house. He was only allowed his moment of sobbing shock before Q's box of Froot Loops hit the ground, spilling cereal all over the floor, and then Q was grabbing Eliot's wrist and pulling him inside the house and into a bone-crushing hug, the cereal box kicked to the side, making even more of a mess of the entryway. Eliot kicked the door shut behind him, and tucked Q under his chin, and just held him there, still crying, for a long moment.

"Quentin? Quentin! Quentin!" Q's mom's yelling fell on deaf ears until, slowly, Q pulled back from Eliot, looking up at him, his eyes wet and full of shock and wonder.

"El, what, how, I thought-" Quentin started, while Eliot began speaking at the same time

'Q, you were dea-' At the same time, they both seemed to remember the existence of Q's mom and, coming around the corner with an equally confused expression, Molly, both looking between the pair.

Eliot leveled a gaze at Q, attempting to compose himself. "Explain, Coldwater."

Q took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to have this conversation in front of the blank stares of his mom and stepmom. "Okay, like, El, Eliot, um, when I got back from, uh," a glance over his shoulder at his mom and Molly, "grad school, the one down under, I came back, uh, earlier than I thought I would, and, er, Our Lady friend's, y'know, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 Lady friend's husband told me that you, and er, all our other grad school friends had, uh, moved away to go to a different school, down under.

Under her breath, Molly whispered "Quentin was in Australia? With this guy?" Q's mom just shrugged.

Eliot spent a few seconds translating that (𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘣𝘺 𝘏𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥) before he attempted his own muggle retelling. "Okay, I think Our Lady friend's husband may have gotten his facts wrong because we're not away at that grad school down under. But, we all thought that you were still there. I was coming here to tell, uh, ask your mom if she knew that you had...transferred schools. And then I was going to try to find out how to convince you to, uh, transfer back."

Quentin, after translating (𝘏𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱, 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬) very softly, whispered, 'Oh. Oh, El, are you, I mean, I know you just got out of uh, a difficult...relationship. Are you, I mean, how are you dealing with that?"

Eliot translated (𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘶𝘯-𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺?) and started almost laughing, smiling. "Oh, that guy was a dick, I'm doing much better now. And all the better for seeing you."

"El-" Q tried to cut in after translating (𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶) but Eliot stopped him.

"No, Q, I have to tell you something else." He took a deep breath, puzzling through it, "I, when we had that, um, conversation, awhile back, before I...got together with that guy, I told you that I didn't want any more peaches or plums. But, to break up with that guy, when we had that, uh, really brief off patch, that day we hung out in the park, you remember, I had told him that I actually did want peaches and plums and that I lied to you, and he, uh, dumped me for a little while, so I could see you, but then we got back together, and when we...broke up again, you were, ah, down under, at grad school."

Q stared, the translation (𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘯-𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬, 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥) hitting him like a brick to the face. "Eliot, I-" he was crying now, totally unconsciously, "I want that, I want peaches and plums do. I missed you, I was so, I was horrified that you had left to go down under to grad school.

It was about a half-second after translating (𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰, 𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥) that Eliot was pulling him in, one hand on the nape of his neck, the other on the left lapel of his robe, and kissing him, wet and desperate.

Q's mom whispered to Molly, growing more and more confused every second. "Fruits? Are you understanding any of this?" Molly shook her head.

They pulled apart after a moment, and then they both seemed to suddenly remember the existence of Q's mom and Molly, and both turned to face her. "Uh, mom," Quentin began, "This is Eliot, he's my, uh, partner."

"Partner?" Molly asked, the term decidedly vague.

"Yeah, uh, partner. We've been...apart for awhile. There were some misunderstandings, I guess, but we, um, I love him." Q looked up at Eliot who smiled back at him, wrapping an arm around his waist, and pulling him close.

"Yeah, we're partners. I love him too." Eliot smiled warmly, so tired of running from his emotions.

"Q, you never even introduced me to this guy, how could you-" but then Q's mom stopped herself, taking a long, deep breath, "I'm happy for you Quentin. I'm happy for both of you. I'm glad you're figuring things out for yourself Q." she smiled softly, genuinely, and then took Molly's hand and walked out of the hallway and into the kitchen.

Quentin looked up at Eliot, laughing awkwardly. "We're working on our relationship, my mom and I."

Eliot shook his head. "Q, what are you doing here? "

"I thought everyone I knew and loved was dead. You, our friends, my dad...my mom and Molly were the only people I had left, and I didn't want to like, die, again, without fixing things between us, y'know? That's one thing my mom accuses me of breaking that I actually did break but, I want to, I don't know, mend it. It's more major than I'm used to, but, uh, I figured it was worth a shot." Q looked down, smiling softly, a little proud of himself.

Eliot smiled warmly. "Oh, Q, you are just...so sweet." He hugged him again, tucking him underneath his chin. "So what, you died and woke up here?"

Quentin laughed. "More or less yeah. I went to the Underworld, and uh, Penny, our Penny, was there. He like, took my secrets or whatever, and I watched the funeral, and I uh, cried like a baby for a little while, and then I took the metro card and went on the train and uh, walked out of a closet in my mom's bedroom. I had to, uh, sneak out the window and come back around to the front door. She thinks I got dumped and evicted, and I'm just crashing here for a bit."

Eliot paused for a long moment before asking softly, "You saw the funeral?"

"Yeah, it was, um, it was really sweet, I guess. I just, I wanted to be there so bad, to tell you all that I didn't want to die. I didn't want to die El, I swear."

"Oh, Q, I know you didn't. You stupid, self-sacrificing, boy. I know you didn't." Eliot was crying again, and he just held Q tighter, as if, if he let go, Q might fade into dust again, the way Alice described he did, in the mirror world. "Margo sent me after you. Gave me a good kick in the ass."

Q laughed, warm and real, still crying, "Some things never change, huh?"  
Eliot nodded, chuckling, "If Margo ever stops being the only one between the three of us with any available brain cells, I'd drop dead."

"I missed you so much, all of you. I don't even know how long I've been here, but I missed you so, so much. And I'm so sorry." Q buried his head in Eliot's chest then, his shoulders still shaking faintly, but it was clear that he wasn't sad, rather, the happiest he had felt in months. He had felt that coming back to a world where all of his friends were already dead was some kind of cruel, cosmic joke on the part of the universe. Some clever trick being played on him, as a form of punishment for all of the shitty things he had done. Cheating on Alice, killing a God, abandoning Julia, abandoning Fillory, whatever else he may have done, it was now coming back to haunt him. But instead, he had his Eliot back. No, better, he had an Eliot who had learned his lesson about taking what you want, about not being afraid to love before its too late. So maybe, just maybe, the universe had decided to forgive him for all of that shit, and instead reward him, with a world that, while it was far from perfect, and Quentin was far from endlessly happy, had Eliot in it, had Eliot holding him against his chest, and that was more than enough.

"I'm sorry too, Q. I promised myself, in the monster, that I would be brave" Eliot whispered it like it was a confession.

Q just looked up at him, smiling softly, and said, with the conviction of a man who believed what he was saying with all his heart, "El, you've always been the bravest person I know." And for the second time that day, Eliot felt like he had had all the air punched out of him.

"Oh." He whispered softly. Then, after a moment, "Your mom is probably wondering where we are, and what the hell we're doing." Quentin nodded, pulling away from Eliot, but taking his hand in a death grip as he did so, like he was still too afraid to let go, and led him down the entryway and into the kitchen, where Q's mom and Molly were leaning against the counter, talking in hushed voices. They stopped when Quentin and Eliot entered the room, sitting at the table. An awkward silence filled the room, before Quentin's mom attempted to fill it.

"So, uh, Eliot, right? Where are you staying these days?" it was an innocent enough question, but Q recognized it for the attempt to get him out of the house that it was, and he chuckled softly to himself. Their relationship was better now, they both knew that, but they also both knew that it was never going to be perfect, and anyways, Quentin was 27, and he really should probably try and find his own place anyways.

"Oh, some friends and I rent an apartment just a little ways from here." He answered, before turning to Q, "You could come back with us, you know. See everyone again. See Alice." Q recoiled instinctively.

"Why would I want to see Alice? Eliot, I already told you-" he started, eager to defend himself, but Eliot simply shushed him, patient.

"I know Q, but she doesn't know that. You owe her an explanation, at least." He said softly.

"I-" Quentin began, but then he sighed, dropping his head. "Yeah, yeah, you're right, okay."

They stayed a little while longer at Q's mom's place. Eliot and Molly got on surprisingly well, and Quentin tried to explain (without letting any of the magical stuff slip) what exactly the situation between him and Eliot was. he could never really do it justice, there wasn't a way to describe the bond that comes from being married and in love for half a century, but he tried. It was just getting dark by the time Q had managed to get dressed, pack up what little belongs he had into an old Ikea bag, and head out of the house, hand in hand with Eliot. They waited at the bus stop for a while, and then it was only on the bus back to the apartment that Quentin remembered he didn't really know what the current situation was with everyone.

'So, uh, like, what's going on right now? With everyone, and, magic and stuff. I still have my magic, but, it's, uh, a bit wonky. I figured that was part of the, y'know, the whole being dead thing."

Eliot laughed, turning to him with a bright, almost too-cheerful, somewhat manic sort of smile. "Oh, well, the world almost ended, it's still kind of ending, we broke the moon, released the Kraken, only for a minute though, and Charlton, you remember, the guy from Blackspire, previous landlord to the monster, rent-free, the son-of-a-bitch, is living in my head (there was an affronted noise from somewhere behind him, but Eliot had been pointedly ignoring Charlton, bless his heart, for the last few hours and would continue to do so until his existence reached a higher level of priority). Breaking the moon fucked up all the circumstances, even though we put it back together again, so magic is fucked, apparently she holds a grudge, and, oh yeah, Fillory is 300 years in the future, is ruled by a tyrannical dictator called the Dark King who Margo and I work for, or at least, used to work for until I had a very brief fling with him-" Here, Quentin tried to cut in, but Eliot just blazed on ahead, "I know, trust me, I know, not my best move, I was half out of my mind, you'll have to forgive me. Anyways, Margo and I tried to kill him, didn’t go great. But anyway, he's trying to bring back his lost love and destroy Fillory in the process."

Quentin just stared at him, wide-eyed. "What the hell Eliot? If the world, okay, worlds were ending, why the hell did you leave?"

Eliot smiled at him, sad and painful, cupping Q's face gently. "Oh, Quentin, I was no use to anyone like this. My world had already ended."

And then Quentin was crying again, and, yeah, it was gonna be a long and very, very sappy evening, both of them could already tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos a happy author makes!


	3. Alice Quinn Deserves to be Happy

Eliot tipped the bus driver well, for having to put up with a lot of crying and kissing in the back of the bus. In truth, the bus driver found the whole thing rather sweet, but money was money. Q helped him down the steps of the bus, as, after a long day on his feet, his monster-related chronic pain was beginning to catch up with him. Despite Eliot being a full head taller than him, Quentin helped him down with an arm around his waist and another slung around his shoulder, which forced Eliot to lean down, but that was alright, because Quentin was holding him. They walked down the sidewalk toward Marina's old apartment like that, the cold night air blowing both of their long hair back.

They reached the apartment around midnight, and Quentin let go of Eliot to open the door, but then stopped with his hand on the doorknob. Eliot looked at him, raising an eyebrow. After a moment like that, Q asked: "Do you think they'll want to see me?" Eliot blanched, honestly surprised at the question.

"Q, are you kidding me? You left a hole inside of all of us when you didn't come back from the Seam. I mean, we haven't talked about it, god knows why, but we all missed you so goddamn much, Quentin. We're not us, without you." Eliot snorted to himself. "it's like the Scooby gang without Shaggy." Quentin let out a weak half-laugh at that.

"Excuse you, I'm clearly Velma." He protested.

Eliot hummed. "Wear one of those chunky sweaters you like so much with one of Margo's miniskirts, and we can consider that idea."

Quentin laughed, a full sound this time, and turned the knob, gently stepping inside the apartment. The living room was, of course, empty, which reassured Quentin, and he walked further inside as Eliot followed him in, gently shutting the door behind them. Quentin collapsed onto the couch as his exhaustion caught up with him. Eliot joined him a minute later, after abandoning his coat by the door. He rested his head against Q's chest, who's eyes were already closed, clearly worn out from the combination of emotional overwhelm and just a lot of fucking standing and walking. "Should we, y'know, go see them?" Q asked, desperate to see his friends again, but also really tired.

Eliot shook his head, closing his own eyes. "We'll see them in the morning. let them sleep, Q." Q nodded tiredly, and a few minutes later, they were both asleep, and Eliot, for the first time in months, slept without the hint of a nightmare.

They both awoke to the sound of screaming. Eliot tumbled off of Quentin's chest, and Quentin sat bolt upright, his mass of bedhead sticking up ridiculously. Eliot scrambled to his feet, pulling Q up off the couch, and they both whirled around to face a terrified Julia Wicker, who had clapped both her hands over her mouth in a combination of shock and terror. The scream had woken the rest of the apartment it seemed, as before either Quentin or Eliot could say anything, there was the sound of slamming and door and fast footsteps throughout the room. Penny got their first, rushing to Julia's side, starting to ask what was wrong before he saw Quentin and fell dead silent. From there, it was a mess of more screaming and chaos, as Alice and Kady made their way downstairs at the same time, grogginess quickly turning to alertness as Alice screamed, much like Julia, and Kady's hand flew up in an approximation of a battle magic tut, before Alice grabbed her wrist, stopping her from sending Quentin flying. Margo and Josh arrived a moment later, and while Josh seemed appropriately shocked, turning to Margo, she wore only an amused smile and was the first to attempt actual words.

"Well, El, that was awfully fast. I thought I'd at least get a week off." Her words were harsh, but her bright eyes revealed exactly how thrilled she was to see Quentin. Kady whirled on her, her eyes blazing.

"You knew about him?" She demanded. "You told us Eliot wandered off!" Margo merely shrugged.

"So? I lied, big shock. I sent Eliot to get his boy back, it's not like any of you were in the business of caring about him anyways." She said it with a light tone, but the poison, the anger, the defensiveness of her soulmate ran underneath her words, and Kady got the message, turning back to Alice, who looked like she was about to cry.

"His...boy?" Alice asked, and her hands, one still clutching Kady's wrist, were shaking.

'Alice-" Quentin started, but before he could get another word out, Julia's arms were around him, knocking the wind from his chest. Then she was pulling back, and his breath was knocked out of him for a second time, as Julia punched him hard in the chest.

"You-You fucking asshole-" and it was then that Quentin noticed she was crying. He pulled her back into a hug, his own eyes starting to water. it was also then that, oblivious as ever, he noticed she was pregnant. Like, very pregnant, and he pulled back, staring down at her belly.

"What-" he started, but she cut him off.

"Penny," she started, wiping her eyes, not that did any good, she was crying so hard. "And Fillory bullshit." She laughed, a punched-out sound. Quentin made a similar sound, kissing her on the head.

"I missed you so much," Q said, "so fucking much Jules, Jesus Christ."

"You-You are not allowed to leave like that Q, what the hell."

"I didn't want to, I swear to god, I didn't."

She nodded at him, smiling brightly, and then she stepped back from him, back into Penny's chest, who wrapped his arms around her from behind, holding tightly underneath her belly. Finally, Q was able to make eye contact with Alice, and he opened his mouth to speak, but then she was letting go of Kady and taking off upstairs, disappearing to somewhere in the apartment, leaving Quentin standing in the middle of the room, his mouth still hanging open.

"You'll catch flies like that, Coldwater." Margo. Jesus, Margo. Quentin turned to her, and she was walking toward him, smoothing out his bedhead when she reached him, and then she was kissing him, not romantically, but full of love. When she pulled back, she smiled, her eyes shining. "Wicker's right, you are an asshole. Leave like that again, and I'll personally drag you back just to kill you myself." She was joking, laughing, but her eyes were watering, refusing to spill over, but Quentin saw the sadness she'd been carrying all these months plainly.

"Thank you," he whispered, quiet enough that no one else could hear. She shook her head, cocking it at Eliot.

"he told me," she whispered back. "How I could I not send him after you?" The first tear slid down her cheek, and Margo Hanson did not cry, but she didn't move to wipe it away.

Quentin nodded, smiling at her, warm and full of love. "Good. You, uh, you deserve to know, Margo."

"Okay," Josh spoke up from somewhere in the back of the room. "is anyone gonna tell me what's going on?"

Penny laughed. "Coldwater's back, unfortunately, keep up Hoberman." Some things never change, Quentin thought, but as he looked at Penny, his head resting on Julia's shoulder, he could see the affection in his face. Even if Penny and Quentin probably never got along in any version of any timeline (except for timeline 4, but by then Jane was still working out the kinks, and both she and Dean Fogg agreed that that really was not the best change to make), that didn't actually hate each other as much as they might pretend, and Penny was, despite himself, happy to see Quentin's stupid nerd face again.

"Yeah, no, I got that," Josh started again, "Just, um, how?"

"Yeah," Kady piped up, "I was kinda wondering that myself."

Quentin sighed and gestured toward the couch, the implication being that this was going to be something of a story, and he really didn't want to have to do a "Margo-right-out-of-the-desert" thing. A few minutes later, everyone was settled, minus Alice, who had not returned from upstairs. Quentin sighed and began retelling the somewhat anticlimactic tale of his return. "Alright, so, I ended up in the underworld, obviously, and Penny was there, uh, Penny40, I mean. he was there to, um, get my secrets or whatever, so I could move on. He, uh, he took me to see the funeral." At that, several people inhaled, and Eliot closed his eyes, the memory of that night still an open wound. The memory of waking up, finally himself, and Margo sitting on the end of the bed, looking with him such a tragic expression that it took him no more than 30 seconds of silence, of looking into her eyes, to know that Quentin was dead.

After a moment, Quentin continued. "So, yeah, that happened, and I, uh, cried a lot, and then Penny gave me my Metro card. To get on the, the fucking Underworld train or whatever. I got on the train, and a few minutes later, I stepped out into my mom's bedroom." Margo opened her mouth to speak, but Quentin held up his hand, cutting her off. "Yeah, I know. So, uh, Hades was there, and he told me-he told me that it wasn't, uh, my time, or whatever, but, well, he also told me that-that" He stopped, sighing, closing his eyes.

'Told you what, Q?" Julia asked, her voice gentle.

"He told me, that, well, all of you were, uh, dead. Yeah, he told me that all of you were dead. And that I was back, but, that something had happened in Fillory, and it was destroyed, and you guys went with it. So I just, snuck out the window and went around to the front door, and asked my mom if I could stay. So, uh, I've been there. I guess nobody bothered to go tell her I was dead, so I've just kinda, been there for a while. Smoking and being sad." With that, he pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lit one, with an actual lighter, which was a rare sight among magicians, and collapsed onto the couch next to Eliot, cramming the pack back into his jeans pocket. Eliot put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close. "Oh yeah," he added, his voice muffled. "I also got together with Eliot," because there was something to be said for not beating around the bush.

"Okay," Josh cut in again, "I don't get that bit."

"Yeah," Penny added, "When did you and Eliot find the time to have some kind of fuckin' secret relationship?" Eliot laughed, shrugging.

"Timeline bullshit. A story for another day, I'm afraid." Eliot told them, and everyone realized that, despite his easy-going attitude, something was going on there, and the grip he had around Q's shoulder was equal parts comforting as it was protective. People, one by one, left the couch over a period of about 10 minutes, and, when he had finished his cigarette, Quentin said, softly, only to Eliot, who hadn't moved, "I need to talk to Alice."

Eliot, who would once have taken that an insult or felt threatened by it, just nodded and said, "Yeah, you do," because there was also something to be said for emotional maturity. With that, Quentin stood, kissing Eliot gently on the head, and headed upstairs. It took him a few to find Alice's room, but when he did, he knocked gently, and Alice opened the door, her face impossible to read, except for the redness around her eyes that showed she had, at some point in the last half-hour, been crying pretty damn hard. She stepped aside, an invitation, and Quentin stepped inside.

Quentin moved over to the bed but didn't sit down, feeling as if he wasn't allowed. He opened his mouth, not even sure what he was going to say, but Alice, shutting the door, still facing it, beat him to it, asking softly, "It's always going to be him, isn't it?"

"Alice, that isn't fair-" but she cut him off, turning around, leaning against the door, sighing.

"No, Quentin, it is. I'm not saying that to be a bitch, I'm being honest. We owe each other that, don't we?" She watched him for a long moment. "Is this a break-up?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

'Alice, I don't-" but she was right, she and Eliot were both right, they owed each other that. "Yeah, yeah, this is a breakup, vix." She nodded, smiling sadly.

"Good, thank you." She walked over to him then, taking his hands in hers, gently. "He told me, Q, about the mosaic. I mean, he didn't give a lot of detail, but, I got the picture. But, I-I should like to know something. Did you ever love me, Q? Why did you get back with me, if it was always going to be him, and we were so close to getting him back? And don't bullshit me, Quentin, I've had enough of that."

He nodded, squeezing her hands gently. "Yeah. I did. Fuck, I still do, Alice. That's not bullshit." He took a deep breath, blinking slowly. "I got back together with you because I'm an asshole. And because I loved you, and you knew me better than almost everyone, and I was so fucking tired, vix. I needed, I needed to be known. And I could see it in your eyes that you were breaking too. We don't, we don't fit together like that, we both know that, but, when the entire fucking world felt like it was ending, I just needed, needed to fit somewhere, even if I knew it didn't work."

She nodded, crying again, and he noticed, belatedly, that she wasn't the only one. She took his face in her hand, wiping a tear from his cheek gently. "Thank you. Not just, just for that, but., for everything. For everything we were to each other. We are."

"I don't regret it, any of it." He said, because he suddenly felt that it was very important that she knew that, and she nodded again.

"I know, Q, I know. I don't either. I can't-I'm never going to ask you to be a less complicated person. You deserve to be happy, and I-" she stood up straighter, composing herself. "I deserve that too. And we can't be that for each other. But, god Quentin, I want you in my life."

He shook his head, frantic. "I want that too, so much. I think," he laughed, still sort of crying. "I think everything was a lot simpler as, um-"

"As foxes." She finished for him, laughing as well, leaning closer to him, her hand still cupping his wet cheek.

"Yeah," he agreed, "So much simpler as foxes, Vix." He kissed her then, a goodbye, gentle and wet, and then he pulled back, and they were both smiling gently as he left the room, feeling a thousand pounds lighter as he made his way back down the stairs, heading into the kitchen, were he found Eliot leaning against the counter, talking to Margo and Kady. Eliot pulled him close as he entered, kissing him gently, because fuck secrecy, they'd played that game for far too long.

"You taste like Alice," he commented, but there was no heat behind his comment, despite the mutinous look Margo gave him from over the counter and the confused one Kady gave him.

"Yeah," Quentin said, because there was no use in denying it, and it wasn't like he had put his tongue down her throat. "We said goodbye." Eliot nodded, understanding, and then proceeded to put his tongue down Quentin's throat, because he was only human after all, and it's not like Quentin minded being claimed.

"So," Alice said, entering the room, her eyes dry, perfectly composed and pointedly ignoring the flustered sound Quentin made as he pulled away from Eliot. "I think we need to talk about Hades."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos a Happy Author Makes!


	4. The Gang have Conversations that the Writers Forgot About

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor notes here, I edited Chapters 2 and 3, just some minor changes, basically adding Charlton back in to the story because I LITERALLY FORGOT he was in Eliot's head. Did I mention I hate s5?
> 
> This chapter is heavier than the previous. Heavy discussions about PTSD, the Monster (and all relevant warnings), and Q's suicide and suicidal ideation. So, reader discretion please.

The remainder of the day passed in much a similar fashion. Having Quentin back was beautiful and wonderful and amazing, but Fillory was still in Danger, with a capital D, standing for Dark King and his batshit resurrection plan, apparently, Hades was up to shit, or at least very, very, confused, and Julia was pregnant, which ranked fairly minor on the grand scale of problems, but it was still there. The point being, there was still an amount of shit going on that needed to be dealt with, and it needed to be dealt with sooner than later. Alice, Julia, and Eliot took turns filling Q in on the finer points of what he missed at his mom's place, and seeing where he could help. At some point, maybe a little after noon, Kady and Alice went out to get coffee, Eliot neglecting the invite to go with them, still a little reluctant to let Quentin out of his sight, instead digging through some book Julia had found, looking for a way to find Hades. Penny was similarly engrossed, Josh and Margo were off doing god knows what, which left Quentin and Julia sitting at the kitchen counter, Julia's hands resting on her belly. 

"We were going to name it after you." She started, breaking the sad silence that had fallen between them.

"I-What?" Q blanched, looking down at her stomach again. 

"I mean, we hadn't really talked about it yet, but, we were going to name it after you if it was a boy. Still might, if I'm being honest. It wasn't-It was never going to be a replacement for you, but, it felt right. I was going to ask Eliot to be a godfather. I don't know why, but I always got the sense he'd be good with kids." She smiled softly, running a hand gently over her bump.

At that, Quentin felt his eyes watering up, the way they always did when he thought about Teddy. There were so many moments with the monster, specifically, the ones where it was hurting him, a painful memory of himself held in place by his neck by Eliot's hands flashed through his mind, where he so desperately wanted to imagine Eliot as his husband, the father of his child. Not biologically, obviously, but Eliot was every bit Teddy's dad as Quentin was, and as Arielle was his mother. He remembered the night that she had died. It was something so stupidly human, pneumonia, most likely, but there was just, no medicine, no Earth medicine. She died in the middle of the afternoon, on a frightfully cold summer day, and when Quentin could remember where he was again, it was early fall, or the Fillorian equivalent anyways. Eliot had stepped up, had been a fucking parent to Teddy while he had just, withered away. Even now, where that timeline had never happened, he still hasn't forgiven himself for that, for abandoning his child and his lover like that. He didn't have the right. But Eliot just, forgave him, always so patient, so forgiving. 

They got married that winter, the opposite of his and Arielle's wedding, although they used the same ribbon, now fraying at the edges and stained with the colored chalk that never really came out of their hands after the first month. He was okay after that, not perfect, not over her death, but he was a dad. He never really got over her death, even when he was burying Eliot next to her, sitting by their graves at night. He's not sure how long he lived after Eliot died, but he knew it was a year or so. He hoped one of his grandkids buried him there too. He remembers going to bed one night, talking to an invisible Eliot, like he always did, those last few months, either to keep himself from going insane or to drive himself more so, he wasn't sure, and then just-black, nothing. So, he must have died, that night. It was a good night to die, a cold spring, he remembers that. There was a party in the village, and he was much too old to travel there by that point, but he remembered all the times, when their bodies didn't protest at every motion, when Eliot had dragged him down the hill towards the sounds of laughter and music. The night Teddy was conceived, Eliot had pulled them both down, and they danced around a fire, so beautifully, simply happy. Some of the natives had given them flower crowns, and Arielle's was much too big, always slipping down over her eyes, Quentin kissing her, bright and happy, as he pushed it back up.

Eliot and Arielle had never really been together. They were both Quentin's, as much as he was theirs, but they slept together often. He always smiled when he remembered that night, between Arielle's thighs, Eliot kneeling by him on the bed, a towering, imposing figure, whispering filthy things in Quentin's ear as he was encouraging him, before rolling him onto his back and having his way with him when Arielle was satisfied, while she watched, languid and laughing, happy to watch her boys. The bunny had informed them of Arielle's pregnancy 2 and a half months later, and Quentin would have fainted had it not been for the steel grip of Eliot's firm hands on his shoulders. They celebrated that night, so wonderfully excited and happy, and when Teddy came all those months later, Quentin held a crying Eliot and kissed his wet cheeks and told him that he was going to be Teddy's dad too and that he was going to love Eliot so, so much, if it was the last thing Quentin ever did. Eliot cried for hours, about becoming his own father, about Teddy not understand them, about Quentin running off with Arielle, and the 10 million other stupid, irrational fears that came with fatherhood, but when Teddy was born, all he could do was smile and laugh and kiss his wet forehead, and take him to the kitchen to get him washed up while Quentin comforted his exhausted wife.

He washed him in the wooden bath that Quentin had sculpted just for the baby, opposed to washing him in the old, splintery sink. He spoke softly, and Quentin never knew exactly what he had said to his newborn son, but he could hear the tenderness, the love, the bewilderment in whatever it was, undercut with that note of fear that never really left Eliot's voice when he talked to or about Teddy, always afraid that he wasn't a good dad, even after Teddy had long since left and become his own man, he could never shake the feeling. But Quentin knew, and always tried to tell him, that he was the best of men, the best of lovers, of husbands, of fathers. That it could never had been anybody but Eliot to help them raise their son so wonderfully. So yeah, Julia was right, Eliot was good with kids. 

Q blinked once, twice, spacing back in as Julia snapped in front of his face, and when he looked up at her, he was crying, his mouth breaking into a smile. "Q? Q. what's wrong?" Julia asked him, clearly worried. Oh god, he thought, she really has no idea.

"I, um, there's something I need to tell you, about me and Eliot. I don't-I need to tell you." He explained, wiping his teats fruitlessly as he continued to cry. Through his tears, he told her, about the mosaic, about Arielle, about Teddy, about growing old, about dying, and about Eliot. God, there was no way to tell anyone about Eliot, about that life they had shared together. The beauty of all life indeed. He tried anyway, barely coherent through his blubbering. She just grasped his hands and smiled, the way she had when they were kids and Quentin was rambling on about Fillory for hours: patient, understanding, and so, so full of love. Quentin had thought he loved her once, didn't know yet what it meant to really love someone yet, and it was so obvious, staring at her face, why he had thought that. She was so beautiful when she looked at him like that, it was like staring into the sun. 

When he was done, she brought one of his hands to her belly, letting him feel the life inside her kick against his palm, and he made a faint, choked out sound, the memories as fresh as if they had happened yesterday. "It's okay Q, I know." She told him, and she didn't, really, she couldn't, but it was nice to hear. 

"He was so wonderful, Jules, our little Teddy. God he, he had my stupid hair. He was-He was everything to me." He said, smiling, the memories no longer the stabbing pain through his chest they once were, especially not now that-

"To us, baby Q, he was everything to us." The click of Eliot's boots sounded against the tile floor, a habit he had picked up ever since people started jumping every time he arrived somewhere too quietly. Even still, the sudden sound of Eliot's voice startled Quentin, and he whipped his hand off of Julia's belly, turning to him as if he'd been caught, relaxing when he saw Eliot. His voice was different, the way he used his body, the way he carried himself, the way he was he dressed, literally everything about him was so opposite to the monster, and yet, the face, the voice, some things were still, once upon a time, under that things control, and the sight always shocked him a little, probably would for a while.

"Yeah," Q began, still tearful, "Yeah El, everything to us." He agreed, wiping his eyes again. 

Eliot, who was not oblivious to the way Quentin startled around him, slowed as he approached him, kissing the top of his head tenderly, and while he wasn't crying, his hands were shaking, the emotions practically bleeding out of him. Julia smiled at the sight, standing up carefully, her hand resting under her bump. "Take care of him El." She said, without the slightest trace of heat behind it. Eliot just nodded.

"Take care of your kid, hedge bitch." He never really stopped calling her that, but his faint smile masked the aggression the term might have once carried with it Instead, his aggression lay with his command, because at some point Eliot, who, if you had asked him at Brakebills how he felt about being a father, he would have laughed you off, handed you a mysterious blue-green cocktail, and aggressively not thought about his father, had found himself a fierce defender and lover of children. Just one of the many things Teddy had taught him, he supposed. Emotional maturity indeed. 

She nodded at him, more understanding than he was used to seeing from Julia, then walked out of the room.

"Is he watching us?" Asked Quentin, who, much like Eliot, had seemed to remember the presence of the man in Eliot's head, Jesus, what the fuck was their life, and was a bit put-off by the whole thing.

"Yeah, he is. He's quiet though, he understands a moment when he sees one." Eliot shot a look in Charlton's direction, who made a show of covering his eyes and nodding, standing ramrod straight.

"I, um, I sort of had an idea about that, if he was, y'know, amenable," Q said, looking around the room as if attempting to speak directly to Charlton, eventually settling on looking in a direction the was the exact opposite of where Charlton was standing. Charlton, ever patient, moved into Quentin's imaginary line of sight, although it was likely as much for his own benefit as it was Q's.

"Yeah, go on, he can see and hear you, you're looking at him." He didn't have the heart to tell Q that he was only looking at him because Charlton had made it so.

"Right so, I'm sure you heard the story of like, how I got here. And, um, we're gonna have to go looking for Hades to like, figure out what the hell happened, and his sort of the king of the Underworld, and, well, you're sorta supposed to be dead anyway, and like, I know no one wants to be dead, but like, if you, y'know, want to move on, we could maybe? Ask for his help? If you want?" Q finished lamely, staring blankly in the direction of the invisible Charlton.

Eliot watched as Charlton seemed to mull this over. He reached out his hand and watched as it phased through an espresso machine. He repeated the motion several more times, then looked down at his strange, silver garment, then back up to Eliot's button-down, waistcoat, greatcoat, slacks, and high boots, as if realizing for the first time how out of place he was, half existing in this world. "I told you," he began, "When you first saw me again, that I held on tight because I did not want to be gone just yet. But I have trailed through your mind and your memories and your world for many weeks now, Eliot, and I have realized that I am not inclined to remain in it any longer. I was young when I became its keeper, barely older when I entered the happy place, yet I have lived long in these places, and I find myself weary, Eliot. Tell your friend that if he can find a way to allow me release, I welcome it." 

Eliot nodded, feeling for the first time since he had met the man an emotion for Charlton other than exasperation or gratitude. Namely, a sort of sadness, bordering on pity. He had never lived a full life, and yet it seemed he did not want to. Eliot would not stand in the way of letting him move on any longer. "Yeah," he said into Q's hair, "He says yeah. He's tired."

At that, Quentin laughed, but the sound was bitter, pained, and it sent a pang of something sharp through Eliot's breastbone. "Tired, yeah, I know how that feels."

Eliot pulled back from Quentin, his hands on his shoulders, sending a furtive glance towards the kitchen entryway. "Q, I-There's something we need to talk about. I'm not stupid Q, I know living with-with that thing wasn't easy, and I need to tell me what happened. I can't-I don't want to ever hurt you again Quentin, not if I can avoid it."

Quentin nodded, solemn. "It wasn't you, El, and it wasn't your fault. You-You have to know that, it wasn't your fault."

"Well," Eliot protested, "I mean, technically, I did shoot it-"

Quentin cut him off. "No, El, you shot it to stop me from making a stupid, ill-conceived decision and I will never blame you for that again. Those things it did, it wasn't you, and I know that, so you need to know it too."

Eliot opened his mouth to argue back but backed off when he saw the look Quentin was shooting at him. "I-" he sighed, "Yeah, Q, I know. I know that, Jesus."

"Good." Quentin nodded, before taking a moment to compose himself, as Eliot moved his hands from Q's shoulders to grasp his hams firmly, grounding. "It didn't-I wasn't just living with it. Even when I was Brian, it just, I don't know, it liked me. I was like, whatever it's idea of a pet was. Except its idea of a pet was dragging me around on various murder field trips. I had to wash some poor person's blood of my hands so many times El, my skin was raw. I didn't even know their names." At that, El tried to release his grip on Quentin's hands, but he just grasped them together. "No, don't," he sighed, taking a moment, before plowing on ahead, "When I was, um, me again, it was worse, it was so much worse. Because they weren't some psychopath's hands, they were your hands. And I love you so, so much, and I watched it use your hands to kill and maim and tear. It used your mouth and your voice to pout and whine and threaten. It used your arms to drag me around, it used your legs to walk from victim to victim, it used your eyes to-to see me, to look right through me. It was so, god it was so fond of me but it was so different but fuck El, it was still your eyes." He was crying now, but if he stopped talking now, he would never be able to tell Eliot about this again. "There was this, this period where it discovered things like pills and alcohol and junk food and it was just, fuck, Eliot, it was killing you, there was going to be nothing left of your body and I just-I couldn't let it do that. I, um, I told it that if it killed you then, then I wasn't going to be it's friend anymore, and it, uh, it didn't like that, so it, um, well, it-" His hands slipped out of Eliot's, flinching toward his own neck, but not settling, but it was enough that Eliot got the picture, a wave of nausea and horror hitting him like a tsunami.

"Oh my fucking god, Quentin-" He started, not even knowing what he was going to say, but Quentin just laughed, hollow and empty, stopping him.

"You wanna know what, though, El? That wasn't the worst part. When it was hurting me, that was, it wasn't okay, but at least I knew where we stood. It was this monstrous, evil creature, hell-bent on its own mission and it just liked me enough to not kill me, but not enough to not let me know that it could, if it really wanted to. The worst was when I was tired, which was pretty much all the time anyway, but when it was late and I was alone and you, he, fuck, it would show up, and I wasn't used to you being gone yet, and I would sit up like you were back, and then it would say something like 'Quentin. We are out of churros, you are coming with me to get more' or whatever the fuck else it wanted at 2 in the goddamn fucking morning, and I just, flickered out. Or when it would smile at me and wrap its hand around the back of my neck and look down at me and just for one, fleeting moment it felt so much like you that I felt like I could cry and then, poof, nope, because then we were in a field in Kansas and some poor family was going to die because it didn't know what braids were and I shattered all over again." He deflated then too, just like he'd described, and he wasn't crying anymore, but only because he was just, so, so empty. And he knew that it was okay now, that the monster was gone and Eliot was back and he was alive and with his friends again, but it was still so, so tiring.

"I didn't want to die El-" He started, faint, barely above a whisper.

"I know Q, I know you didn't-" Eliot tried, but Quentin stopped him again.

"No, El. I didn't want to die," he stopped, looking up to meet Eliot's terrified eyes, "But I was too tired to care whether I did or not."

Margo had explained to him what happened at the Seam, at some point, based on Alice's tearful recollection, and it had always haunted him. Why hadn't Q thrown faster, whey had they hesitated at the door, why had cast magic like that, why didn't he find another way, why didn't he run, why didn't he send someone else? He saw now, looking into Quentin's eyes, which were almost grey with the weariness that had settled into them, so different from the starstruck brown he saw squinting at him through the sun on the Brakebills lawn, what feels like, god, centuries ago, and for the people they were now, it might as well be. He saw that it wasn't that there wasn't another that, that it wasn't that Q had to die, that it wasn't some unavoidable tragedy. He saw that it wasn't that there wasn't an easy way out, it was just that Quentin was way too tired to find one.

Eliot nodded at him, feeling his eyes well up again, and Jesus when had he become such a crybaby? He hadn't wept like this since, fuck Mike, and Jesus, if you want to talk about lifetimes ago. He pulled Q, who was still sitting, hunched over, on the uncomfortable kitchen stool, against his chest, tucking him beneath his chin, where he had always fit so well. He held him there for a long time, he wasn't sure for how long, but there was nothing else to do, and certainly nothing else to say. Eliot understood, and Quentin had no more of his soul left to bear.

It was dark when they moved back into the living room, his and Q's coffee sitting cold on the table in front of the couch, everyone else positioned somewhere around the room, noses in books, empty coffee cups and paper plates, someone had gotten pizza, apparently, littered around the room. Cleaning up trash seemed like such an inconsequential thing that everyone felt ill at the thought of doing something so pedestrian as putting the bins on the road. So, the trash would magically disappear eventually, and no one would ever think about it again. It was almost painful. 

He and Q settled into an open spot on the couch, and Alice took to the task of filling them in, having been kind enough to let them be in the kitchen for however long they had monopolized it. "Right, so, the first order of business is to get in contact with Hades. Find out why he brought Q back, why he said we were all dead, what's going to happen to Fillory, and most importantly, what the fuck can we, and more importantly, he, do about it. He didn't say anything about it when we needed to get Hoberman back-" Josh made a noise from somewhere behind her while Margo just laughed, but Alice pointedly ignored them both. "He was just off being depressed about his wife, which, understandable. Anyways, he helped us get Josh back and promised to help stop the Dark King, and he didn't make any mention of my, or anyone else's, being dead, nor did he bring up Q."

"I hate to sound like a cliche," Margo started, "But is it possible that the literal god of the literal Underworld may have less than noble intentions?"

Whatever response anyone was about to make was cut off by a deep voice from somewhere over Eliot's shoulder. "Terribly cliche, I'm afraid, Ms. Hanson. Please, allow me to explain, I assure you it's far more complicated than you think." With that, Hades blipped to the front of the room, hands folded over his neat suit with the air of a man, okay, God, about to tell a very long-winded and complicated story that in reality could be boiled down rather simply. Kady groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos a Happy Author Makes!
> 
> P.S. This might end up being longer than 5 chapters, whoops


	5. Decisions and Second (Third?) Chances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty soft chapter here. Sorry it took so long, depression tingz. I promise, I have every intention of finishing this story. Next chapter will be the last. Enjoy!

As it turned out, the prediction about Hades' storytelling was only half-accurate. He was incredibly long-winded and pretentious, but the story was actually fairly complicated, so it was forgivable.

Here's how it went down:

Hades' pretentious air lasted only a few more seconds, before he sighed deeply, shaking his head. "I'm afraid a large amount of this is rather my fault. I'm sure those of you who visited for my assistance with the Hoberman matter recall the, ah, rather unfortunate state I was in at the time. I'm sure, then, you're wondering why I didn't mention the affair with Mr. Coldwater here. You'll have to forgive me, I was rather grief-stricken. I-" 

Hades was still talking, but Quentin cut him off.  
"Even so, you don't think it would have been, like, relevant? I mean, you thought those guys were dead, right?"

"Wrong, and I'll implore you to not interrupt me again, Mr. Coldwater." Hades closed his eyes in a long blink before continuing. "The Hades you met, what was it, playing video games, was not exactly me, you see. In my grief, I attempted a form of magic, similar to that which created the siblings that you all were kind enough to dispose of. I was attempting to recreate my wife, using the ambient potential the brother had created in its god-killing rampage. It's far too complicated for you human magicians to understand. However, I, ah, severely miscalculated, and managed to split myself in half."

"So which-" Alice began, but Hades held up a hand to stop her.

"it's not quite that simple, Ms. Quinn. The magic I attempted was fueled by the pain I felt over losing her. When I split, he took all the pain with him, hence the state you found him in. I, on the other hand, feel nothing towards the loss of my wife. It's rather unfortunate, to say the least. Now, rejoining with him would not be terribly difficult, however, I cannot seem to find the bastard. The only knowledge I have of his movements and activities is what I can glean from you all."

"So what about Quentin?" Margo asked, never one to beat around the bush.

"I'm getting there, Ms. Hanson." He sighed, and probably would have rolled his eyes if he didn't think it was so unbecoming of him. "The Hades that brought Mr. Coldwater back was the other one. I presume he did so as some sort of penance. Persephone was rather fond of you, Mr. Coldwater, for whatever reason, I assume it was an attempt to fulfill a dying wish of hers. As for the assumption of your deaths, I'm fairly certain he was lying to attempt to keep Mr. Coldwater safe. he likely reached the conclusion that associating with you people is likely to bring him harm, and that staying away from you all would allow him to stay alive, therefore fulfilling my wife's wish." He paused for a moment. "I can't say that it is a terribly incorrect conclusion."

At that, several people made affronted sounds of protest, but Eliot just laughed, shaking his head and pulling Quentin closer. "No, no, he's got a point." Eliot allowed.

"Okay, this is all great," Kady began, "But it ranks fairly low on our list of problems. The Dark King is gonna destroy Fillory, circumstances are fucked, magic is fucked, El is a schizo, Julia's pregnant, and we've got fuck-all in terms of a plan."

Hades shook his head. "I understand that you're under a tremendous amount of pressure, and that's why I'm willing to help, but I need you to ask yourselves a question." He looked at them, his expression grim. "How much do you value your lives here on Earth? I have a plan, but it will require you to abandon your lives here, to stay in Fillory forever. Think, I will return in a day's time." And with that, he blipped out.

Margo sighed dramatically. "Well, that was totally fucking unhelpful."

"Oh, I don't think so. I mean, we have a better understanding of the situation. And, a plan, I think." Alice supplied, although she didn't sound as confident as maybe she was trying to be.

"Abandon out lives here?" Quentin said to himself, shrugging. "I mean, yeah. I guess that's fair."

"How is that fair?" Eliot asked, not quite snapping, but sharp.

"Like, to say Fillory, we have to devote ourselves to it entirely, or some shit. I don't know, that sounds like the kind of bullshit we're used to." Q shrugged again, looking up at Eliot from his place tucked against his chest.

"Still, never come back here? Ever?" Julia said, her hand running over her belly nervously. "That's, I mean, that's a lot."

"I did it, so can you." Eliot snapped, turning to shoot a look a sharp look at Julia.

"I didn't mean-" She tried.

"No, of course, you didn't mean, no one ever means. You guys get a choice. I didn't get a choice. The universe just decided I was going to be High fucking King, and I had to marry a fucking woman and rule an entire fucking country and stay there fucking permanently, only to get kicked out the goddamn second it started to mean anything." Eliot looked like he wanted to continue, but Q shushed him, bunching a hand in his vest.

"El, honey, we know, we promise," Margo said, her voice soft.

"Thanks, Bambi." He sighed, draping an arm over his face. "You guys can take the day if you want. I'm going, I've already done it once."

"Me too." Quentin piped up, curling himself closer around Eliot.

Margo snorted, but her voice was soft and sincere. "As if I'd go anywhere without you, El."

Alice stared off into space, then zoned back in to look at Kady, who was likely having a similar thought process to her. She couldn't just leave, she had responsibilities. The order, the Library, she couldn't just leave all that. Could she? What had Fillory ever done for her? "I need to go talk to someone," she said, and she stood up and left the apartment swiftly.

"Yeah, me too." Kady followed, her own mind turning to the hundreds of thousands of hedges she'd be leaving behind, and she followed Alice out of the apartment.

Kady was not exactly a sentimental person, in fact, had spent quite a lot of time running away from her problems. This wasn't that. If she left that would be it. She would never come back here, she would never be able to help the hedges, to fulfill her promise. She hated breaking promises, but she realized that no matter what choice she made, she would be breaking one. Did she abandon her hedges, people on the fringes of both magical and muggle society, like her, who needed guidance? She had never really love magic, not the way Quentin had, but she loved the people she had found because of it. But if she went with Hades, she would be breaking the promise she made to her friends. Maybe not out loud, but Kady loved them, and the idea of never seeing them again, of being alone, with her hedges and Pete was a terrifying image. She sat on the steps of Pete's place, contemplating.

In the end, one could say it was actually a fairly simple choice. She didn't know this new Penny, didn't even like him all that much, to be honest. But her Penny was different. Her Penny was someone who she could love, really love, without being afraid of it. And she knew that she would probably never see him again, that he was trapped, but she thought of him often. She knew that Penny loved their friends do. He was all anger and jagged edges and rebellion, but deep down, Penny had a bigger heart, a deeper, unconditional love for his friends than any of them. And if they were going, so would he.

Kady stood up and walked into Pete's house to say goodbye.

At the same time, Alice sat across from Zelda, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes firmly fixed on the desk in front of them.

"I'm going away," she started, because Alice had never been one to labor over a decision. She was efficient, methodical, and she was going to Fillory.

"I know," responded Zelda, her face solemn, but understanding.

"You do?" asked Alice, "But how-"

Zelda sighed, gesturing to the wall of books behind Alice. "I always knew you would, Alice. It's okay."

"Will this place be alright? I know how important it is to you." Alice isn't sure when Zelda became someone she considered a friend rather than at best an acquaintance and at worst an enemy, but here they were.

Zelda nodded, a faint laugh escaping her lips. "I may not look it, but I can take care of myself. I devoted myself to The Library a long time ago, I have no intention of letting it go to pieces." She smiled, leaning closer to Alice. "Go be with your friends, Alice. Go be in FIllory, go save the world. Wherever you go, I'm supporting you."

Alice nodded quickly, standing from her chair. "Thank you, for everything. I mean it."

Zelda shook her head. "We'll be alright Alice. You will be too. Do what you were born to do." She laughed again, leaning back in her chair. "Queen Alice the Wise, long may you rule."  
Alice smiled, a rare sight these recent months, and left The Library, her mind firmly made up.

Penny and Julia sat across from each other in the kitchen, Julia tapping her fingers on the marble countertop. "I'm going." She said, firm. "And I don't care if you are, but I want this baby to know its father, and I know that you do too. There's nothing here for me, there hasn't been since Q-" she sighed. "I care about you Penny, and I want you in my life. But I'm going, so, you can do what you like with that information."

Penny looked at her for a long moment, before smiling, wide and bright. "Jules, of course I'm coming. I want to meet our baby, and I want it to meet me. I'm not from here, I've never belonged here. Fillory is just another reality for me, maybe it'll fit better than this one.

By midnight, everyone had managed to trickle back into the living room, everyone perched on different surfaces in a semi-circle around the room.

"So," Margo opened, "Who's going?"

Slowly but surely, everyone nodded, raising their hands halfheartedly. One by one, Quentin, Eliot, Margo, Josh, Julia, Penny, Alice, and finally, Kady raised their hands. Nobody talked after that. People just trickled out of the room, off to bedrooms to sleep, waiting for Hades to come back. When everyone had gone, it was only Quentin and Eliot left on the couch.

"Do you want to be king again?" Quentin asked softly.

Eliot considered the question for a long moment. "No, I don't think so." He shook his head. "I paid my debts to Fillory. I think it's time for someone else to take up the mantel of royalty."

Quentin nodded, understanding. "Then what will you do?"

Eliot looked down at the smaller man curled against his chest. "I'd like to find it again." He sighed wistfully. "What's that poem?" Eliot thought for a moment. "Ah, it's, 'I think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. We are good people, and we have suffered enough.' " Eliot smiled softly. "I just want to spend my life with you again. I want another chance, I want to get it right this time"

Quentin didn't have to ask what Eliot was referring to, he only nodded. "Me too." With that, he curled against Eliot closer and closed his eyes, falling asleep to the lull of Eliot's hand in his hair and the beat of his heart within his chest.

The next afternoon, when Hades came, nobody said a word, already gathered in the living room for the final time. Hades looked around at them and nodded. While he was fairly lacking in a base understanding of human emotions, there was no mistaking the air of the room, and he wasn't a stupid god. He gestured to the wall behind him, and a portal opened, showing behind him an opening in a forest, presumably Fillorian in nature. With a few last glances around the apartment, the group followed Hades through the portal, which snapped shut behind them with a deafening air of finality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos a Happy Author Makes!


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